Heart of Darkness
by jazzpha
Summary: An examination of what might have happened to Iroh following the Siege of Ba Sing Se and Lu Ten's death if he had let his anger rule him, rather than transforming himself into the canonical spiritual diplomat we all know so well. Based on the pre-canon glimpse we get of him chuckling over burning down Ba Sing Se in "Zuko Alone". One-shot.


**Heart of Darkness**

* * *

"Father? Are you all right?"

The question drew a weary chuckle out of the man behind the desk.

"I'm tired, Lu Ten," he said, rubbing his eyebrows with the tips of weathered fingers. "This war is going nowhere fast, and every day we spend here is a day away from your mother. Do you think we should just pack up and head home? Perhaps… perhaps some battles are just not meant to be won."

"What?" Lu Ten's expression shifted in surprise, his amber eyes wide in the dim candlelight as faint starlight passed through the open gaps in the tent's fabric.

"No," he continued, "we can't. We have to see this through, father. For our soldiers, and for the Fire Nation. We've come so far, we can't turn tail and run now."

"Ah, yes. The Fire Nation," General Iroh said, smiling in a way that gave his son pause. "Such a worthy cause to fight for."

"What would you have us do, pack up all our supplies and hike back through hostile territory until we hit the sea?" Lu Ten pressed, feeling panic begin to rise in his stomach as he saw his father—his commanding officer—doubting their mission. "We'd be cut to pieces by insurgents halfway between here and the shore. No. If we don't break Ba Sing Se, we die. Better to fall in the attempt than fall in retreat."

"You sound like Azulon, my son," Iroh said, looking up to meet Lu Ten's eyes.

"Thank you, father."

"That wasn't a compliment," Iroh continued, his gaze going steely. "Honor is worth nothing if you're rotting in the ground while it's being bestowed on your corpse. Have you listened to nothing I've ever taught you?"

"I have, Sir," Lu Ten said, stiffening, "but like it or not, all we have are bad options. We can only make the best choice from them, and that choice is to fight."

Iroh sighed, inwardly lamenting the confidence of youth. But he couldn't deny that his son likely spoke for the army, and getting the women and men under his command to swallow the idea of a retreat would be difficult at best, and outright impossible at worst.

"Very well," he said after a few tense moments, "we'll fight. But promise me something, my son. Promise me you'll be as safe as the field of battle permits."

"I'm always careful, father," Lu Ten said, smiling. "You know that."

Iroh smiled, nodded, and dismissed his son.

It was the last time they ever spoke.

Iroh found himself wondering, alone in the darkness of his tent in the aftermath of the disastrous battle, why he hadn't told Lu Ten he loved him, one last time. Was it because he would have been lying? Had it been Azulon's teachings rearing their ugly head, telling him that sentiment was weakness?

He would never know. Not that it mattered now, anyway. His son had marched gloriously into his grave, and Iroh had let him do it. It was his fault, and his alone. His soldiers had been crushed and entombed within the Earth itself, and it was his fault. His anger rose dark in his throat, choking him and blinding his eyes even more than the tears he fought hard to hold back.

"General Iroh!" a voice from outside the tent broke into his thoughts, harsh and proud. "Your time has come. Make peace with your gods, and prepare to answer for your crimes against our Kingdom!"

As he broke their bones beneath his fists and burned the flesh from their bodies, Iroh wondered darkly if this had always been his destiny. It was simply a balancing of the scales, the sins of his family finally demanding retribution.

It was only just.

And yet, that did nothing to quell the pain in his heart. The emptiness that hungered for something, anything, to fill it. The powerlessness he felt in the face of the uncaring universe, the guilt clawing his soul to ribbons with each passing second of this agony he found himself trapped in.

As he stood victorious among the broken bodies of his enemies, Iroh realized with numbing acceptance that he felt nothing he'd been expecting. No sadness, no shame, no repulsion at the slaughter he'd just brought to bear on soldiers no different from his own. There was nothing left in his heart but anger.

The Earth Kingdom had seen to that. And it was anger that demanded a target, a caged beast thrashing and desperate to be free of its muzzle.

Iroh knew exactly where to point it. There was only one target left worth unleashing it on. He was going to go home after all, like he always knew he should have. But this time, there would be no celebrations to mark his arrival. No joyous feasts, no happy parades.

Only what was just.

* * *

One month later, Iroh found himself looking up at the Fire Nation Royal Palace from the bottom of the long staircase leading to the place he'd called home for so long. There were two people at his side, two of his most stalwart soldiers—the only two that had survived the long march back.

"Thank you, Shei Lin; Uraak," Iroh said, casting his gaze from the Fire Nation woman on his left to the Water Tribe man on his right. "I appreciate you making this journey with me. I doubt I could have completed it without your help."

"Don't mention it, Sir," Shei Lin said quickly in reply, her deep brown eyes as bright as ever. "If I couldn't save my fiancée, at least I can sleep at night knowing I helped his father get back home in one piece. That has to count for something. It has to."

"And I still haven't paid you back for saving my life, old man," Uraak chimed in, his youthful blue eyes bright with something even Iroh had trouble reading. "Debts that deep take a lot to even out. Besides," he finished, flashing a wolfish grin, "if we're about to do what I think we're about to do, there's no place in the world I'd rather be than in a front-row seat."

Iroh smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.

" _We're_ not doing anything, Uraak," he said, starting to walk up the steps as his comrades fell in line beside him. "This is my fight. I alone will bear the burden of this, its consequence. If it goes wrong, I want you both to be able to get off this island without being hunted down."

"With all due respect, Sir," Shei Lin said grimly, "if this goes wrong, we're all dead. I've made my peace with that. But it won't. I know you better than that."

"I am honored by your optimism," Iroh replied, "but consider this your last order: if I don't walk away from this, don't die foolishly trying to avenge me."

The two soldiers shared a long look, worried by the tone their commander had taken. In the end, it was the young Water Tribe mercenary who broke the silence.

"Understood, Sir."

The guards at the door were surprised by the Dragon of the West's sudden appearance, and stood speechless and immobile for a few long moments.

Iroh smiled, wondering if it was his tattered, bloodstained shirt, the freshly-healing scars on his chest, or the look in his eyes that gave the sentries the most pause.

"General," one of them said at last, snapping to attention, "we… we heard you were dead."

"No such luck, I'm afraid," Iroh said, smiling. "My son, however, fell under the shadow of Ba Sing Se's walls. These two are all that remain of my army."

"My sympathies for your loss, Sir," one of the other sentries said, bowing her head. "I don't know if the messenger hawk reached you in Ba Sing Se, but…"

She trailed off, and the look in her amber eyes told Iroh everything he needed to know.

"My wife," he said slowly, surprised that he'd forgotten the one thing the universe hadn't ripped away from him yet. Of course. "The wasting sickness. It came back, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir," the woman answered, her head still low. "About a month ago."

The rasped laugh that escaped Iroh's lips then put everyone around him on edge. It was the sound of a small, quiet, final break. Shei Lin and Uraak knew, in one terrible moment of understanding, what was about to happen.

"Of course," Iroh said. "She always did say she wouldn't be able to live without Lu Ten. She begged me not to let him enlist. One more regret, I suppose. There's always room for one more."

Saying nothing else, the Dragon of the West walked past the wordless guards and into the Royal Palace, his two companions following behind him.

They made the rest of the journey under the cloud of a heavy silence, with no words having been left unsaid between the three soldiers. When they reached the doors of the throne room, shocked palace staff and guards tripping over themselves to make way for Iroh, the trio shared one final determined look before Iroh pushed the doors open.

"I'm positive my brother is dead, my Lord," Prince Ozai was saying to Fire Lord Azulon, with his wife Lady Ursa at his side. "We haven't heard from Iroh in a whole month, and reports from the field at Ba Sing Se indicate it was a slaughter. Is that not enough to name me your heir?"

Azulon looked over and saw his older son in the doorway, the unexpected reunion eliciting nothing more than a wry smile from the Fire Lord.

"I was wondering if you would have the gall to show your face here again, after your pathetic performance at Ba Sing Se," Azulon said, his voice carrying through the whole throne room and causing Ozai and Ursa to turn around in surprise. "Your impertinence, Iroh, once again fails to surprise me. It does, however, disappoint me."

"I don't know whom I should apologize to first, father," Iroh said, striding confidently into the throne room. "You, or my little brother, for upsetting his designs on my throne."

" _Your_ throne?" Azulon echoed, rising to his feet. "What madness could have taken you, for you to think you'll ever sit on this throne? After your defeat, you should be kissing my feet for not ordering your execution on sight."

"I'm going to sit on that throne, father," Iroh said, "because I'm going to take it from you. In the old way."

"An Agni Kai?" Ozai broke in, his eyebrows raising in shock. "Are you insane, Iroh?"

"Hardly, Ozai," the General replied, walking ever forward, even as he motioned for Shei Lin and Uraak to stand aside and watch what was going to unfold. "I feel more sane now than I have in years. I see this empire for what it is, at long last. It can't be allowed to continue. This warmongering must end. And if I have to bear the burden of ending my own father's life to see that done, then so be it. It is a weight I am willing to carry, for the betterment of the Fire Nation."

Azulon laughed, resuming his seat on the throne and looking down at Ozai.

"Kill him," the Fire Lord said calmly, "and you can have your throne, boy."

Ozai looked from his father to his older brother, and Iroh could see him weighing the options in his head. Ursa glanced pleadingly at Iroh, and the general felt what little was left of his heart break all over again.

"Don't do this, Ozai," Iroh said to his brother, the words strained. "I don't want to fight you."

Far from rousing pity in the Prince, however, the plea seemed to strengthen Ozai's resolve.

"That's why you won't win," he said, shrugging off his jacket and settling into a dueling posture.

"Ozai, what are you doing?" Ursa asked, fear in her eyes. "This is beyond ludicrous!"

"Get out of my way," Ozai said lowly, centering himself as Iroh tossed his own shirt aside and settled into a mirror posture. "And stop prattling. I need to focus."

Ursa quickly hurried up to the dais, sitting down a few paces away from Azulon. The Fire Lord, she noted with a chill, seemed to be pleased by the impending mortal combat between his own children.

Iroh and Ozai circled each other, the firelight in the throne room casting their shadows long on the floor.

"You shouldn't have come back," Ozai said, smiling. "How did you think this was going to end?"

"It hasn't ended yet," Iroh said, his voice grimly determined. "Stand down, Ozai. I said I didn't want to fight you, and I don't—but if you give me no other choice, I will."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

Ozai said nothing more, launching the first strike and sending a bolt of flame lancing from his fist towards his brother. Iroh stood his ground and punched forward, shattering the attack and dispersing the flame before it reached him. Not giving Ozai a moment to breathe, Iroh lunged forward and slammed his other fist into the ground, forcing his opponent to jump into the air to avoid the flame rushing along the floor. Iroh shifted his weight forward, raising his arms and causing the fire to rise into a wall, swallowing Ozai's feet as it did so and causing the Prince to shout in pain.

In the shadow of the throne room's side alcove, Uraak grinned.

"And they say Waterbenders can't fight."

Iroh didn't relent as Ozai hit the ground, sweeping his leg out in front of him and sending another crescent of flame to burn his brother's feet beyond functioning. As Ozai writhed and snarled, Iroh advanced with soldierly calm, flame wreathing his fists.

"Stay down, brother. You're done."

"Not… yet…" Ozai gasped out, forcing himself to rise to his knees. "Not yet."

Iroh said nothing, launching a dual blast of flame at Ozai with such speed that the Prince barely had enough time to shield himself before the blow landed. He screamed as the skin on his forearms seared and cracked, feeling the flames lick greedily at his face and wondering through the haze of pain if it was the War that had made his brother this strong, or if he had always been going easy on him all these years.

Iroh kept advancing, until he was within arm's length of his younger brother. He looked down at Ozai with sorrow in his eyes, and the expression made Ozai's hatred spike. He reached up with a burned hand, fire flaring in front of it.

Iroh reached down, put his hand over Ozai's eyes, and focused smoldering heat into his palm. Then he kept walking, speaking one last piece of advice to his prone sibling as he advanced on their father.

"Stop moving, and you should be able to avoid going into shock."

Ursa rushed over to kneel by Ozai's side, aghast at what Iroh had done to her husband. His left eye was burned blind, and his right wasn't much better, though it still functioned.

"Get away from me," Ozai gasped, his voice mangled as one of his hands clawed futilely at his blind eye. "Get away!"

Ursa recoiled in horror, torn between grief and nausea at the sudden feeling of helplessness that slammed into her.

What was happening?

Azulon rose wordlessly to his feet, smiling wide with the madness of bloodlust.

"Perhaps I did underestimate you," he said as he walked down the steps to the floor of the throne room, "or perhaps you finally shed that weakness you clung to so stubbornly when you were younger. Either way," the Fire Lord said, lightning beginning to spark at his fingertips, "it doesn't matter. I suppose a woman will have to sit on the throne after me… a half-blind cripple has no business ruling anything."

Azulon brought his arms around in twin circles, the electricity amplifying and arcing around him. Iroh set his feet, shifting his weight onto his back foot and waiting.

"Goodbye, my son," the Fire Lord said, bringing his hands forward and launching the lightning at Iroh. From the alcove, Uraak and Shei Lin both came to the same realization at the same time, understanding now why their commander had been so insistent on studying one particular Waterbending technique so many times during the long journey home.

Holding one hand out, Iroh let the lightning pass into him and then through his body, guiding the energy through the paths of his _chi_ and steadily into his other hand. From there, it leapt out of his body on its own accord and screamed through the air towards Azulon, ripping into the Fire Lord's aged body with indifferent savagery.

"And to think," Iroh mused as he advanced on his father, who sat slumped on the ground, breathing shallowed by shock, "I looked up to you."

The guards standing in the wings by the throne were too surprised by the sudden, unexpected end to the confrontation to do anything as Iroh reached down and pulled the crown off of his father's head, but Iroh himself was perfectly aware of their presence.

"Take my father down to the dungeon, block his _chi_ and put him under heavy guard."

"But, sir… he could die."

"If he is strong enough to survive, he will survive. Otherwise, he doesn't deserve to," Iroh answered coldly as he put the crown on his head, looking down at Azulon with disdain. "That's one lesson I still remember from you, father. Let's see if you can live up to your own standards."

The guards hesitated for a few moments, waiting until Iroh had sat down on the throne to comply. Once they were gone, taking Azulon with them, Shei Lin and Uraak stepped back into the light, surveying Ozai's prone form with a mixture of pity and disgust.

Iroh turned to face Ursa, his eyes remorseful once more.

"I'm sorry," he said heavily. "You deserved better than this."

"Promise me you won't go after my children," Ursa said. "Please."

Iroh flinched, hurt that his sister-in-law would think him so monstrous. But he couldn't blame her, either, after what she'd just seen.

"I would never, Ursa. You know that."

Ursa sighed, relieved, before turning her eyes to face forward again—and seeing something that made her gasp.

"Azula?" she breathed out, stricken to see her daughter advancing slowly towards her husband's mutilated form. "What are you doing here?"

"Father?" the Princess said, sounding for once as young and scared as she looked. "What… what happened?"

Ursa rushed down to her daughter's side with the speed that only belonged to a mother desperate to shield her children from harm, quickly steering Azula away from Ozai's body.

"Do you want me to heal him, Sir?" Uraak asked, glancing warily back at Ozai. "He might not make it."

Iroh looked down at his brother for several long moments, before shaking his head.

"No," he said at last. "If I let him live like that, he'd hate me for the rest of his life. Sooner or later, I have no doubt he would find a way to kill me. That's a risk I can't afford to take."

"But then why did you let Azulon live?" Shei Lin asked, confused.

"I didn't," Iroh answered. "He'll be dead before they reach the dungeon. But if anyone asks, this way it was fate that decided things, and not my hand directly."

The three of them were silent for a long while, lost in their own thoughts.

"So," Shei Lin said at last, "this is peace, then?"

"As close as we're likely to get, at least," the new Fire Lord replied. "Hopefully, it will last."

Uraak said nothing, keeping his doubts to himself.

* * *

…

…

…

 **Author's Note:** So yeah, this is probably the darkest I've ever gotten. This idea came out of a conversation with a friend of mine, when I remembered that during a flashback to the siege of Ba Sing Se (during "Zuko Alone"), Iroh chuckled at the thought of burning the city down when he was penning a letter back to the Royal Palace. Before Lu Ten's death, I think it's easy to see Iroh as a lot less lovable than he is after his son dies. So I took that angle and ran with it.

Anyhow, thanks for reading!

 **JP**


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